Solid Ground
by fieldagent85
Summary: The President cannot escape his guilty conscience, his wife is the only remedy. Postep for We Killed Yamamoto. Jabbeycentric.


His guilty conscience followed him all the way to the Residence. The faster he walked, the quicker it caught up with him.

When did moral imperative stop coinciding with civic duty? When did his personal principles start falling outside the bounds of protecting his beloved country? Leo said it was the right thing to do. As much as he trusted Leo, the very idea of murder being the right thing sent a chill down his spine. When his conscience complained, he appeased it by insisting that it was his job to protect his citizens, at any coast, and that did not necessarily always include adhering to his own moral standards. But that didn't ease the pain. No excuse ever would.

Inside his bedroom, it was as dark as he felt and as quiet as he wished his nagging conscience would be. He closed the door behind him and kicked off his shoes, pushing them out of his path. On his way to the bathroom, the sleeping form of his wife caught his wandering eye. He paused for a moment and found himself inexplicably drawn to her at that moment. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, mere inches from her blanketed legs. He envied the peaceful aura she exuded. He wanted that.

Her inner and outer peace was mildly disturbed when she began to stir. Her legs stretched out, then curled back in, stopped by his body blocking their intended path. When her legs came in contact with him, the rest of her lethargic body began to rouse lazily underneath the covers. She opened one eye then, surprised by what she saw, opened the other and lifted her head. She squinted in his direction until the drowsy mist that shielded him from her finally cleared. She propped herself up on her elbow.

"Jed?"

She blinked a few times and let out an involuntary yawn.

"Go back to sleep," he replied, gently.

"What's going on?" Abbey asked groggily.

He shook his head, then stood and embarked upon his original journey to the bathroom. When he disappeared from view, Abbey was left alone in her foggy confusion. There was little chance of her disregarding the concern she felt and returning to her slumber, but she struggled with which course to take in handling it. Was this one of those times when she should follow and inquire? Or was it better, this time, for her to let it go and leave him to brood for awhile? Thirty-four years of marriage and it was never an easy decision.

She discarded the blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Slowly, she walked to the bathroom in her silk nightgown and leaned against the doorframe, watching as he stood at the sink.

"What happened?"

He stared at her flawless reflection in the mirror and was moved by the overflowing concern in his eyes. He tried to smile, but didn't quite make it.

"Nothing," Jed insisted. "Everything's fine."

The overflowing emotion in her eyes changed from concern to pity.

"You're lying."

She always pitied those who occasionally feared the truth. Her statement was one not of defiance and determination to get answers, it was but an observation. Judging by the mood he was in, she decided not to act upon it the way she normally would. He waited for the third degree, but it never came. Instead, she moved from her position in the doorway until she stood directly before him. In one swift motion, she pushed herself up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Relieved and endlessly grateful, his strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her tighter against him. He loved these moments. Moments when she didn't question him and no more words were necessary. Although, that didn't mean they weren't inevitable. He felt her breath hot against his neck when she exhaled and he anticipated these inevitable words she would whisper.

"I love you."

But would she still if she knew what he was about to do?

She pulled away and placed her hands flat on his chest.

"I'm here."

Her eyes locked with his and he instinctively understood her meaning. Then, she moved away to the other sink. She grabbed a plastic cup from the stack on the surface and held it under the running faucet. He kept a subtle eye on her as she continued her actions. She held her hair back, then held the cup to her lips and poured the contents into her mouth. When she had emptied it, he approached her from behind. She spotted his reflection in the mirror, but lowered her gaze as if she hadn't. He ran his hands down her arms until his fingers interlaced with hers, then he held both their arms around her waist. She looked up finally and smiled as she both watched and felt his kisses upon her bare shoulder. She tried to turn around and face him, but he stopped her, maintaining her position before the mirror.

"You see this image?" He asked. "Lately, this has been the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning."

With that confession, she immediately felt his severe disillusionment with his job. She knew that whatever was going on, it was more than India and Pakistan, it was more than hostages in Columbia, it was more than Haiti. He would talk when he was ready.

Despite his efforts to sustain her position, she turned around in his arms and gazed up at him adoringly. All words were spoken through the connection established by their eyes. She smiled and reached up to touch his cheek lightly before backing away from him slowly.

"I'm going to bed."

He nodded and she turned around, her back to him, as she walked out of the room.

"Abbey?"

She retraced her steps and popped her head back in the doorway.

"Hmm?"

"I love you too."

She smiled warmly in response, and then she was gone.

Although his guilty conscience still loomed above him, his faith had been restored. In what exactly, he wasn't sure. But faith is faith. He understood that no matter which decision he ultimately made, she would remain as constant in his life as ever.

He just wasn't sure he would ever work up the courage to tell her.

THE END. 


End file.
